


Say My Name You Know Who I Am

by riddlemyfiddle



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - GTA, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Knife Throwing Ryan, M/M, Songfic, general appreciation for Uptown Funk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemyfiddle/pseuds/riddlemyfiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has had a variety of names over the years and they all correspond to different people .</p>
<p>The “Vagabond” the assassin who was deadly and bombast, the “Mad King” the infamous Fake AH gang's mad merc, James Haywood the professional model, and Ryan the boyfriend to five of the biggest assholes in Los Santos.</p>
<p>Sometimes these lives intersect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say My Name You Know Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is not the first fic I'm writing in this fandom, but it is the first that is going up. Not my best work, but I'm fairly happy with it for what it started out as which was pretty much the scene at the very end and grew from there. Also see the overindulgence in slipshod style of writing. 
> 
> This really should be read as one part, but I'm breaking it in two because I'm annoyed at how I haven't posted anything yet even though I've been working on fics for this fandom for a while now. First part is all relationshippy and the second part has the actual action in it. Second part is about half done and needs a bunch of editing, but this should give me a lot more incentive to finish the fucking thing. Self-betaed.

There's a number of reasons why Ryan doesn't like to take off his mask, it's a hell of an eye-catcher, it had become a big component of his reputation, mysterious and insane, and much to his best efforts his facepaint would often smear underneath it, and having people see that was just plain embarrassing. It also helped prevent the disruption of his modeling career.

Back when he had first been starting out, he had learned very quickly that he was better on his own. The “Vagabond” they called him, his skills as notorious as his solidarity and the skull mask he had taken to wearing. The mask served two purposes back then, it was the focal point that his reputation solidified around, everyone would remember the stories about the man who wore death's face as his own, streaked in blood and smelling of gunpowder and gasoline. Helped him make a name for himself.

(Names were sort of an odd concept for him, they always seemed to be for other people's benefit instead of his own, so that someone could put some word to the face of another person. Oh he knew of the importance of them though and had many names of his own, but all were as disposable as the people to which the applied.

He didn't have one he thought of as his “true” name, not even the one he had been called as a child. He didn't need one, he knew who he was and it wasn't like anyone else was going to need a name for a person they would never see.)

The career path of professional model James Haywood followed a very different, albeit parallel path to the Vagabond. He had always loved acting, something very exhilarating in people believing you to be something you're not. It took a talent to read people, to know what they expected of you, which when matched with his intelligence and cool confidence let him both meet and exceed the expectations of him. He got the same thrill when charmed a new photographer with his bashful smile and warm humor as he did when he caused yet another man to shit himself in terror at his laughter. As much as he loved to stand out as the Vagabond there was the same reward in being able to successfully slip into the background as James.

It had also made a lot more sense as a cover when he had been starting out and still doing mainly assassination work, he could travel the world with ease and escape consideration as a suspect where he went. Law enforcement would see a man who was memorable enough that it was inconceivable that anyone could overlook him and confuse him for anyone else, while ten minutes later he slipped from their minds entirely.

All the world was a stage, and he was a one-man show.

He mainly did fashion, lots of men's wear for catalogs, with the clothing being the focal point and not the man wearing it. Though his portfolio was hardly without his quirks, he enjoyed being the center of a kilt collection for a number of years. He had used to do a lot more work but James Haywood's career became more sporadic around the time the Vagabond found himself a crew and a new moniker.

Vagabond had never been one for crews, with a personal policy of never working with the same one twice. He would later say that he had made that rule only to one day break it, he just hadn't found the crew that deserved that yet. Until he did.

Los Santos was a city seemingly half populated by gangs, some small, some big, some that just ran drug some that did more white collar crime, almost all violent. But from the moment it was created the FAKE AH crew was uniquely dangerous and terrifying even amongst that backdrop.When they had started, it had not been more than a scattershot of Names You Should Know, loosely held together by reputations of being the best at what they did and histories of being kicked off of every team they had ever been on for being “too” something.

Vagabond himself, the mercenary for hire who knew his way around all sorts of weapons, skills included a deadeye, interest in chemical explosives, and a trademark talent for knife throwing. Everyone had a story they wanted to tell about him, and yet people so often focused on the flare for the dramatic that he utilized that they underestimated one of his abilities which made Ryan truly deadly, a complete pragmatism to any means necessary to accomplish a job.

The pilot whose flying and driving skills were unmatched, no one else could do what he could because no one else was damn fool enough to do it. Hobbies included cargobobing for cars to fling them around once he had enough air. Yet people would always forget this about him every time they met in person, because Jack was a top conman on top of it, so deceptively trustworthy that it was impossible to not want to share a beer and a secret with him.

The hacker who in any reasonable universe should have been killed a hundred times over by now, but whose continued existence was a testament to some magic force where he negated the rules of reason. His real skills came from seemingly weaponizing his impossible luck, he was always at the heart of the catastrophe, often as the catalyst, and yet it was always Gavin who would be the only one to walk away after.

The Jersey punk who had been kicked out of the mafia not when he had declared a personal war against a rival family, but because his Boss thought he might have a shot at succeeding. A talent for explosives and knack for leaving complete devastation, Michael lost as many fights as he backed down from: none. 

Brownman was a legend among snipers with a track record of taking impossible jobs just to prove he could. But he also made it impossible for anyone to take him seriously from his collection of bright pink guns to his only form of contact being his gamertag. He had an air of apathy so pervasive that time and again people would forget just how observant he was and how easily Ray could retaliate to anyone who tried to fuck him over.

All of it held together by a leader who had a vision and the brazen daring only a man who had 80 proof blood could have. Geoff had been a top member of the Cockbite Empire that dominated the state of San Andres for years when he was given Los Santos and carte blanche to create the crew of his dreams to help run it. Rumor had it because Burnie feared Geoff may have had set his sights on the big guy himself.

And perhaps Burnie should have been more afraid that Geoff with a crew would pose a bigger threat to Burnie then Geoff on his lonesome. Or maybe he had a better read on Geoff's nature than anyone gave him credit for, because once Geoff had the Fake AH and set about taking over Los Santos he never did turn his ambitions anywhere else.

The lot of them were a match made in hell and they turned the City of Saints into their own playground where they took recklessness and crime to an art form. They all brought out the best and worst of each other, their cocksure competitiveness leading to bigger and more elaborate jobs, a race to who could be the most insane. A one-upmanship race of audacity; stealing jets for their own private dogfights over the city, spending a day chucking grenades out of the train as they rode the loop again and again, sniping contests from the tower on the military base.

And among a crew that regularly made a mockery of death and sanity, he had managed to acquire the epithet of the “Mad King” of Los Santos, a staggering accomplishment. And somewhere amongst the chaos and carnage they had created something great, an empire of their own. Though took a few years for Fake AH to establish themselves as the actual leaders of the city and not just the craziest motherfuckers in town. Having to actually fill the power vacuums they were so gleefully creating, create a structure that made them a part of the established system of the city, as much a part of Los Santos as the corrupt police force, Vinewood sign, and the horrible traffic.

And it had taken time for them to warm to each other.

While he would readily admit years later that this was the crew he had all been made for, it didn't make the beginning any easier. He didn't have any experience in being attached to people, the Vagabond had built all those walls for a reason, and he was hardly willing to change that habit suddenly. And he wasn't alone. It was funny, for people who pretty much embodied the phrase “live fast, die young” they took their interpersonal life at a glacial pace.

At first it was recognizing that they worked well enough together, but all the while waiting for the inevitable fuckup that would make this their last heist. Like hearing the _clink_ of the pin from a grenade, only a matter of time before it went and they already needed to get out of range immediately. And yet none of them left, maybe it was the morbid curiosity of wanting to see just how spectacular an explosion they'd cause or some desire for it to be a dud. But they were all still here, past the point of common sense, and it was a weakness that would fuck them over some day, there was no way around that, but in the end it was a different fucking over then they expected.

It would take months for well-honed suspicion of others to settle into something more manageable, months more before they dealt with the tension in anyway besides crude innuendo and quick fucks when they were still high on adrenalin. Years before they could show any form of affection that didn't come from merciless taunts and annihilation of anyone who tried to hurt them.

One month and four jobs in before they would go out to a shitty bar to celebrate for the first time, all of them present even if they weren't all drinking.

Three months before Ray wouldn't take his bag with him every time he left the room.

Four months before he had told them to call him Ryan, before he was ready to be anyone other than the Vagabond or James to anyone since he was 12.

Five months till a job went south and Jack told them of a safehouse he had they could lie low at until it blew over.

Six months before Geoff got drunk and told them about how he met Burnie, starting the tradition of Drunken Geoff's Traumatizing Story Time.

Seven months until Michael could face the choice of getting into a quick fight or keeping up the long con and listen to something other than his temper.

Eight months till Geoff said fuck it, and made Gavin move out of his shitty apartment and into Geoff's slightly less shitty one.

Nine months until Gavin, after just two drinks, would take every opportunity he could get to drape himself over the others or failing that attempt to climb onto their shoulders.

Eleven months till Geoff responded to Ray's running joke about cutting and running back New York, with a heavy stare and a "Well why don't you?” Eleven months till the jokes stopped.

Thirteen months before Jack put his foot down and made it a rule that if no one was allowed to go out for bevs unless they had Jack's number and a _If lost, please call_ sharpied onto their arms.

Sixteen months before some rival gang first failed to kidnap Gavin to use him as some sort of leverage over them. They burned the gang and the base into ashes.

Eighteen months before Jack got drunk one night and spoke about the first time he piloted a plane, how that was also the same day he had pushed a man out the door to his death.

Nineteen months before Ryan let them see his face without the mask and without the paint.

2 years before Gavin got drunk one night and talked about his past back in England, the first time he had gotten in over his head, the first time he had set up a working carbomb, and the Interpol Agent that Gavin had been best friends with since they'd been tots, who he still talked with regularly about everything that wasn't their work. Even with Gavin slurring half his syllables together, there was the certainty in his voice about what choice he knew Dan would make between his work and his friendship and equal knowledge that he could never let Dan be in a situation where he had to make that choice.

2 years 2 months before Ray _finally_ moved into Geoff's penthouse with the rest of them.

2 years 6 months before someone actually succeeded in being able to kidnap Gavin. They left the entire base standing and let one person go to tell the story of the carnage that had taken place.

2 years 8 months before Michael would let Gavin get him drunk enough to share the story of what he had to do get initiated into the mafia and the nightmares he still had from it.

2 years 9 months till Ray, stone cold sober, talked about how a 13-year old managed to access a sniper rifle, much less make a name for himself; not looking up from his DS screen the entire time.

It had been 3 years and 2 months Ryan still hadn't told them about James Haywood, he swears he was just trying to find the right time, no one had asked about it or anything like that night, when Gavin had come across his picture in a magazine. Of course it had to be one of the ones where he was in a kilt and why was Gavin reading the Scottish rag anyways? And yeah okay maybe Ryan did have an addiction to secrecy and theatrics, but it's not like he's the only one with addiction problems here that should be addressed.

_(What did Ryan mean by that? Oh I don't know what do you think he meant, Geoff? The fuck are you getting at, Jack. Oh you know that job we had last week, the one you promised you would do sober because drinking was not a problem, the one we had to scrap? I never said that! You absolutely did. I mean it's not surprising you wouldn't remember it, but the rest of us sure do. I did not! Geoff, it's fine, we're used to not believing half the things you say when you're drunk. Oh look Ray has decided to say something for once, call the fucking presses. Whatever. Let's hold up, everyone needs to back off of Geoff. He doesn't need you to do his defending for him! Yeah Michael let the man get his pants off before you start on that rimjob. Like that can happen, Michael has his mouth permanently attached to Geoff's ass, need to make sure Geoff sides with him when it comes to his fuck ups, distract with sex. He's taking a page from your book then, Jack, hey remember that gambling den shit from several weeks back? Let's not bring that into this. No, fuck it, how about let's! Not like Ryan was just talking about Geoff here? Course not, with the whole plethora of examples I could speak of? You mean like how Michael nearly got himself killed a month back when he started that bar fight. Gavin started it! Oi! Right, I totally forgot the part where Gavin threw himself at the five rowdy drunks who could each benchpress your entire body weight when they started talking shit. Fuck you, I was handling it fine, and you want to talk about stupid shit I don't see you saying anything about Gavin! We already talk about Gavin's idiotic choices plenty. Wot, how did this get to be about me? I'm sorry, isn't everything? What about you Ray, you want to go for broke and speak more than once? Maybe, you have something you want to say here, maybe about that shit you pulled when you decided that status updating when you got into a snipe-out was optional? No, oh look Ray Narvaez Jr. avoiding confrontation, what a startling new development. Geoff, you really want to start this right now? Start it, we're already here!)_ Suffice to say there were many things said that night which left everyone pissed off and it took days till the angry makeup sex even started.

4 years 3 months till one night Ryan had sat them all at a table, glass and a full bottle of whiskey in front of him, and said that he'd answer any questions they had about his past, what rumors were true, did he really do that, but it was an offer only for tonight. The words had just registered with them, when Gavin had leaped at the opportunity to be the first to exploit the moment, and it was two questions in when he had shut up suddenly hesitant if he wanted to ask anymore. _“How many people have you killed?” “Were any of them children?”_ They all sat in silence for a while after that, wheels turning as they thought about why Ryan was letting them pick how much truth they really wanted to know and realized exactly what it was Ryan was offering them.

4 years 11 months till they got the tattoos. When Ryan added to his body's collection of scars that told his life story with the Fake AH logo in the middle of his back. He doesn't see it that often, not unless he's deliberately trying to in the mirror, but it doesn't matter. It's not there for him, it's there for the five people who do want to see it on a regular basis. It's their mark on him, just like it's his mark on Gavin's collarbone, Jack's chest, Ray's wrist, Geoff's bicep, and Micheal's forearm.

(He made the mistake of trying to explain why he chose the placing to Gavin one of the few times he had had a few drinks after a job. The brat had been a damn sight drunker than Ryan but had latched onto the _"Don't have to watch my back anymore, already know you're there”_ from Ryan's rambling explanation, and Ryan knows he will never hear the end of it until he dies. He's surprisingly okay with that.)

It's been more than 6 years since they started this thing, and most days Ryan still couldn't really believe this is where his life had ended up. He had been prepared for a life of his own company, hadn't let himself get close to other people for years, had never wanted to. And now here he was living in one place, interacting with people who weren't just marks, being called the same name, he'd gone domestic. Granted his brand of settling down still involved high speed chases, explosions, murder, but now he was doing it with people he called his lovers, and wasn't this what love was supposed to be about, doing things that you loved with the ones loved? But this was a domesticity he had never imagined himself having all the same.

But sometimes Ryan needed a break from it. Don't get him wrong, he was very happy with the turns his life had taken, and while they loved him in all the ways people like them could, and he them, that didn't mean none weren't aware how easily one of the others could kill them if they ever let their guard down. Because that was how people like them, people who did the things they did and were still alive, could love, with a vicious and possessive relentlessness, but the ever present caution and knowledge of how easily they could get to you, how you could never underestimate them.

But sometimes he just wanted an opportunity to still get a chance to play at being normal, and that was when James Haywood still came in handy.

James Haywood had not retired from modeling, but over the past six years he had just scaled back the work he did and relocated semi-permanently to Los Santos. The crime rates of the city had taken a bit of a toll on tourism and modeling opportunities, but Los Santos still had amazing weather, gorgeous scenery, and tax breaks a plenty, so of course lots of work came out there. So it wasn't the lack of opportunity that had caused James to take less work but more the lack of time. 

There had been changes of course to the life James now had, being known now as a more local person, a lot of the faces becoming a lot more familiar, and even forming some fleeting friendships of people who saw each other often with the other models and behind the scenes crew. They had questions about him, he knows, but being mum about private lives is hardly atypical in their industry, and being reserved but affable works just fine. And after he purposefully lets slip about him being in a polyamorous relationship with five men, people tended to assume they knew all the secrets that he had, after all what could top that? After that it's easy to keep all curiosity satiated with little details about his life, complaining about how only two of them can actually cook and the others think an everything pizza is a balanced meal, or how someone stayed up till 2 am playing video games. When Lindsay first appeared, and not really bothering to hide the fact that she was carrying a gun, he started to drop hints that his lovers was some important figure of some sort who could afford to be overprotective of James.

Really, the biggest change had been Lindsay, well what Lindsay represented. Ryan had first heard about her through some old contacts who kept him apprised of the lay of the land in the assassination work. Very young, very skilled, and took delight in subverting the established order of how crime was done, pretty much the perfect hiring profile for Fake AH. Ryan took a liking to her at once, she had a sharp mind, a dumb sense of humor, and Ryan had to admire someone who could wield a scythe that deftly. And while once upon a time this interest in her would have meant instigating some deadly competition between them, now it meant he had an accomplice to the fun. 

She did a lot of the mid-level jobs, making sure shipments made it on time, keeping lackeys in line, and generally putting the fear of Fake AH and her into people.

One of the conditions that Geoff had insisted on if Ryan was going to continue modeling had been bringing her with him, and Ryan had been okay with that. Geoff might have meant for this to be some concession on Ryan's part when he agreed, but Ryan cheerfully welcomed her. She became James's personal makeup artist and assistant. She liked to joke that she also was the bodyguard for the models. Guarding them from what exactly? Oh it was best not to discuss it. The nervous laughter that followed that line was never not fun to watch.

Ryan enjoyed it, it was a vacation from himself and being James was a fun role to play, spinning stories of half-truths about his personal life, interacting with people who weren't proceeding with some level of caution, posing in photos and walking on the stage as nothing but a living mannequin for the clothing. Making friendly contacts with a number of people, if for no other reason then that was what someone like James would do. Though there were still plenty of reasons to, like having access to the clothing and the designers, and he never left an event without a stack of business cards with personal details scrawled on them, even if he never ordered anything it was still good to see what was being done.

He usually didn't get anything from the majority of designers. His tastes ran towards work of a very efficient style, could almost be called utilitarian if it wasn't so luxurious. There took a very special kind of talent for people who could design something that looked that good and would hold up to his sort of lifestyle. One of Ryan's personal favorites was a Korean designer who worked almost exclusively in twaron and kevlar, and yet made clothing that cut razor sharp with just a touch of gaudy. It really was spectacular, and there was a lot of her work in both his wardrobe and the rest of the guys' 

Oh yeah, that was the other thing, being able to give them things that they would never get themselves.  
And it was just so much fun to spoil the boys, especially when they didn't realize it. All the labels were missing and there was no outward signs of extravagance just the highest quality of material.

Gavin's $6,000 sunglasses, Micheal's motorcycle jacket made from shark leather, Ray's cashmere hoodies, jeans which fit just how the lads liked them to, could hold up to car crashes, bloodstains, and generally going months without being washed. Granted they were also paired with a staggering amount of geek and internet meme shirts but, Ryan knew better than to even try fighting that fight, instead just letting it added another layer of amusement to the whole thing.

He couldn't get away with furnishing Jack and Geoff's entire wardrobe as he could with the Lads; they cared enough about their clothing to want to pick it out themselves. Jack was still too much no-nonsense wouldn't spend that much money on clothes, even though by now Fake AH had plenty of it. Geoff would at least take some recommendations for sites to look at. But even then they did have a bunch of jackets and pants Ryan had convinced them to accept on the grounds of their durability and how much protection they offered. And they certainly didn't complain about what he got the Lads, both because they wanted the daredevil idiots to have as much protection as possible and because those jeans still managed to hug their asses right fine. See everyone benefited!

And there were other ways to give them presents that they'd accept, like the Swiss watch he gave Jack two birthdays back which came with a completely mechanical barometer and altimeter. Or Geoff's alcohol, both imported and domestic, that was from tiny artisan distilleries.

But then there's Lindsay who it's fun to get things for because he doesn't have to be sneaky about it (but just because he doesn't have to doesn't mean that he won't do it for the fun). He probably gets her more things then one should we're they're not dating someone, but really who the fuck cares about rules. There's just a lot more jewelry and clothing made for women and he sees a lot of things he knows she'd love.

And she's jumped at the chance to be his partner-in-crime when it came for getting stuff for his boyfriends, be it acting as a distraction or just devolving into snickers besides him when Ray mocks Ryan's clothing while rubbing his Doritos-fingers on his jeans.

One thing that Ryan just doesn't get is why the guys insist on coming to the shows he does now. It doesn't make any sense, none of them besides maybe Geoff have an interest in the clothing and would get anything from it. These shows had dozens and dozens of models and James Haywood would only be up there for a fraction of it, and why would they even be there to see James in the first place? It's not like he was seriously at risk, James had both Ryan and Lindsay there in case something happened.

He tried having this conversation with Lindsay once, bringing up all these points as she worked on making up his face, but she'd cut him off as she began to powder his more force than was necessary. “Do you even hear yourself sometimes? James thinks this, Mad King wants to do this, can you be trying any harder.”

“What do you mean try-”

“Oh my god. Stop moving your mouth and listen, I need to do your cheekbones, and you are saying nothing of value. I honestly don't know how much of it is you fucking around or if you're actually that dumb enough that you actually believe that anyone who knows you is actually still falling for the whole schizophrenic distancing thing. BZZT, no you don't get to talk yet” she cut him off before he could even fully open his mouth.  
“Maybe you could pull the whole act off once upon a time but you're so transparent now. Oh yeah some of the most notorious criminals in the country really believe that it's James Haywood who keeps sneaking clothing into their closets and that it's the Mad King who celebrated his birthday by hijacking a police boat, and they're not just putting up with their boyfriend Ryan's weirdness. Okay, I'm done now, you want to go?”

He wisely kept his mouth shut, contradicting her when she was this annoyed was not a good idea even when she wasn't in close proximity to his face and had access to so many pointy objects.


End file.
